That's What Friends Are For: Post Fannysmackin'
by Zan1781
Summary: It can be hard to move forward after a traumatic experience, especially when you feel wracked with guilt. Friends can help the process along, though, if you'll only let them in. Post-Fannysmackin'.


**A/N: **Fannysmackin' is one of my favorite episodes, because it highlights some of my favorite character pairings and interactions. I have always seen Greg and Sara as close friends, and was gratified to see the tenderness that Sara showed to him at the crime scene. This is a slight continuation of the episode, set shortly after Greg's release from the hospital.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Spoilers: **Up through Season 7's Fannysmackin'.

**Summary: **It can be hard to move forward after a traumatic experience, especially when you feel wracked with guilt. Friends can help the process along, though, if you'll only let them in. Post-Fannysmackin'.

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**Paris Hotel, Las Vegas**

Greg quietly stood at the very top of Paris's Eifel Tower, leaning against the railing as he stared out into the empty desert. _Empty, that's how I feel right now_, he told himself, his expression a mix of pain and sorrow. _How could I be so stupid? God, I thought I was smarter than that. What's wrong with me?_

Keeping his gaze riveted to the lights of several circling planes off in the distance, Greg rested his chin in his hands. It wasn't often that he toured the Strip, but today he didn't feel like being alone, nor did he really feel like talking to any of his friends.

He felt miserable, he felt scared, he felt… he didn't know how he felt. Glancing down at his bruised hand, and then lightly touching his battered face with the tips of his fingers, Greg frowned when he couldn't keep his fingers from shaking. It was odd that no one else had yet to notice the shakiness, even more odd given the fact that the majority of his friends were trained criminalists; they were trained to follow the evidence, and the evidence clearly indicated that something was terribly wrong with him.

Practically jumping when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, Greg glanced down at the read-out, groaning when he noticed Sara's name appear. Again. This would make the third time that she had called him this hour, in addition to her multiple "are you okay" text messages. Aside from sending her one "yes, I'm fine," message back, Greg had been avoiding her. What was the point? What could she possibly say to make him feel any better?

It wasn't your fault.

You did nothing wrong.

You did your best to save a life.

You _did _save a life.

Greg wasn't in the mood to hear her placating words, although a very small part of him was still very grateful that she seemed to care about him. Although he was close with everyone on the team, he was definitely closest with Sara; he remembered feeling comforted the moment that he recognized her scent at the scene, and he remembered feeling loved when she told him that she had come for him, and not the evidence.

But that didn't change the fact that he still didn't want to talk to her right now. Before he could jam his phone back into his pocket, however, it again buzzed with a new text message. _Are you in your usual hiding spot? _It was from Sara, of course.

Greg gave a resigned sigh, typing back a quick message. _Kind of want to be alone right now._

'_Kind of' implies that you also want company_, came her nearly-immediate response.

Greg chuckled; he supposed she had him there. Typing out a new message, he bit his lip in concentration. _I'm afraid I won't be good company, though._

_No worries, coffee, Earth Tones, thirty minutes_, _my treat,_ Sara replied.

With a heavy sigh, Greg returned his cell phone to his pocket, trudging back to the Eifel Tower's elevator.

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**Earth Tones Coffee House**

"Over here," Sara waved Greg down from her table in the back corner, slightly smiling. "I've been worried about you, you know," she kindly added when he approached.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Greg gave her an apologetic shrug, taking a seat across from her. "I guess I just wanted to be alone for a bit."

Sara studied his face. "But you don't have to be alone. You _do _know that, right?" she hesitantly asked.

Greg remained silent, his eyes downcast. He didn't want his friends to see just how off he truly felt; he wanted to be strong, and he wanted to prove that he could survive anything. The truth of the matter, though, was that he was just plain old scared of his own shadow right now.

"I don't understand men," Sara persisted, peering at Greg over the top of her coffee mug.

"What do you mean?" Greg asked, sniffing the brew that she had ordered for him. Whatever it was, it was decent smelling. Taking a sip, his eyes widened in pleasant surprise; it actually tasted pretty good.

"Why do some men feel the need to isolate their emotions and to deal with things on their own? I've never understood the macho man code. "

Greg again remained silent, taking another sip of his coffee. It wasn't that he was trying to isolate himself, but rather, trying not to be a bother to anyone.

"I can tell that you're upset and hurting, Greg," Sara gently tried again, reaching across the table to rest her hand on top of his. "I see the shakiness in your hands when you're processing evidence, and I see the slump in your shoulders when you think that no one is looking. We've _all_ seen it, actually."

Greg swallowed, lifting his gaze up to meet Sara's. Of course they would have all noticed; of course she would have noticed. He had assumed that his friends were unaware of his thoughts, whereas in actuality, they had just been trying to give him his space. "I just feel—" he trailed off, not really sure what to say. "I don't know," he helplessly shrugged.

"You did the right thing," Sara murmured, giving Greg's hand a comforting squeeze before releasing it and grabbing her coffee mug. Taking a sip, "There really wasn't anything that you could have done differently."

"I could have stayed out of the alley in the first place," Greg stared into the murky liquid of his drink.

"You could have, yes," Sara quietly agreed, "But then Stanley Tanner would have died; backup was too far away to help. _You _are the reason that he lived, Greg."

"And I'm also the reason that Demetrius died," he pointed out. "A kid with a future—I killed a kid with a future." _I'm a killer. A murderer._

Sara pursed her lips in thought, taking another sip of her coffee. She knew that the situation would feel completely different had Demetrius been a simple gang banger, but he hadn't been; he had been a kid who had made a poor choice, and who had paid for his poor choice with his life. "Let me ask you this," she finally said. "After you called for backup, what did you do?"

Greg stared at the table, his hands loosely wrapped around his coffee mug. "I drove into the alley and honked the horn."

"Why?"

"I wanted to scare them away from the victim," Greg quickly replied.

"You just wanted to scare them?" Greg nodded his confirmation. "You didn't want to hurt them?" Greg shook his head no. "So how did Demetrius end up on the ground?" Sara softly inquired, not wanting to cause her friend any distress, but also wanting him to see what she was getting at. "When did you make the decision to hit him?"

"When he came at me with a rock," Greg mumbled. "Look, I know what you're trying to do, Sara," he hesitated, "But I still killed a boy."

"And saved a man," she reminded him. "I know that you won't feel better over night," she continued, "And I know that my words probably just feel like empty words to you, but I want you to know two things. Are you listening?"

"Yes," Greg mumbled.

"When you're feeling badly, think about Stanley, and remember that without you, he probably wouldn't be alive today."

"And the second thing?" Greg asked, his gaze again meeting Sara's.

Reaching across the table, she gently squeezed his hand. "Remember that you aren't alone, Greg, and that you've got friends and family to help you through this. You just have to let us in."

"I know," Greg cracked the smallest of smiles, "And I appreciate that, thank you."

Sara got up from her spot at the table, pulling Greg up, too. Wrapping her arms around him in a friendly hug, she added, "That's what friends are for. Any time, any place, I mean it."

And she did.

Retaking her seat, she simply gazed across the table at Greg, letting him talk.

And he did.

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_Finis_


End file.
